“Yes! I am very interested.”
She beams as she reaches into her purse and pulls out a card. “Here. I’ll be in contact. Ian gave me your information. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I think you’d be the perfect fit for us.”
“Thank you! Thank you so much.”
She nods and then moves to leave the bathroom. And as I stand there, ruminating on the brief but incredible conversation, my eyes drift over the card she handed me, focusing on the address of her firm—Las Vegas, Nevada.
As quickly as the excitement filled my chest, the balloon deflates and sends me straight back to reality. This job is in another state, far away from my brother, my friends, and now my husband.
But is that enough to hold me back? A relationship on rocky ground that had a timeline to be fulfilled, even if I thought that wasn’t a detail I had to worry about anymore until a few days ago?
The truth is, I have no idea what’s going through Hayes’s mind, and until I do, I can’t make a decision about this, although that’s not going to stop me from going to the interview either. I have to look out for myself, keep fighting for what I want because, at the end of the day, the only person I’ve learned I can count on is myself.
When I make my way back into the club after fixing my make-up and gathering my wits again, my eyes are drawn to the same spot where Hayes and my brother were standing earlier. With no self-control when it comes to the man, my sight lands on Hayes laughing and tipping back a tumbler of whiskey, looking at ease and like he’s having fun for the first time in ages. A group of girls goes up to the group of men and a waitress comes by with a tray of shots, encouraging everyone to partake. And Hayes does—he laughs and throws back the alcohol like he’s been doing it his entire life—and I guess a part of him has because this is what his life was like before we got married. I can’t remember the last time I saw him like this—carefree, easy-going, in his element. Perhaps the last time was the night we got married here almost six months ago.
The image before me has my brain spiking with realizations—maybe this is what he needs, his old life back, a life that he knows and is free of obligations that marriage and job titles bring him. And since he’s made it abundantly clear that his job means everything to him right now, my heart has to look out for itself. Janet said that I should listen to it and let it steer me where I’m meant to be—well, I think my heart and now my mind knows that it’s time to put an end to the agreement we started with in the first place.
* * *
Hayes
This night is utter shit. I am utter shit.
I don’t think I’ve felt so fucking guilty and miserable ever in my life. I know I’ve let my parents down at times, and Wes was pretty fucking mad at me when I told him I married Waverly while drunk in Vegas—but none of that compares to having the woman I love mad at me, avoiding me in a room that we should be celebrating together.
I just want to hold her, kiss her, take her out on the dance floor and tell her how much I love her and how proud I am of her.
But I hurt her. I know I fucking did. It’s written all over her face. It’s apparent in the cold shoulder she’s given me for the past three days.
So I’ve said nothing—done nothing—because I don’t know what to do. One, I’ve been so fucking busy doing a job that I’m beginning to hate that I haven’t had the energy to fight with her, to hash out the words I said that I wish I could take back. And two, the more time passes between us not speaking, the more I feel her pulling away from me and hopeless that I can even fix the problems between us at this point.
So what have I been doing instead? Drinking. Drowning my sorrows in a few glasses of whiskey and some shots brought by one of the waitresses just now, as well as the past few nights when I’ve come home and she’s already locked herself in her bedroom, shutting me out even further.
“You look like shit,” Silas says as he takes a seat next to me in the booth. Our little group of business associates has dispersed finally, leaving me alone to sulk in peace and stare at Waverly across the club.
“Thanks.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Nope. Going on four days now.”
“Not even to tell her that you’re proud of her, that you couldn’t have done this without her?” He eyes me disbelievingly from the side of the booth and takes my silence as my answer. “Fuck, Hayes. The least you could do is offer her that.”
“I’m scared to fucking go up to her, Silas. I don’t want to make a scene and you don’t know what happened. I… I said some shitty stuff to her.”
“Well, that wasn’t smart.”
“Thanks, Sherlock. I’m just… I’m fucking miserable without her. And this job? Fuck, I don’t think I knew what I was getting myself into.”
“Have you spoken to your dad about it?” he asks, taking a sip of his beer.
“No, because I don’t want him to stress. He’s finally doing better according to my mom, and the last thing I want him to worry about is work right now. I’m… I’m handling it.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, you look like you’re fucking handling it, Hayes.”
“Fuck you, Silas,” I say through a laugh, but it’s only to hide the failure I feel inside.
I’m failing my dad.
